Klaus Mikaelson doesn’t trust easily. And yet, here you are—hidden in the depths of his mansion, safe from his enemies, yet carrying a secret he would never suspect.

“You shouldn’t be out here,” he says, his voice low and dangerous as he steps into the library, eyes scanning the dim light. “It’s not safe. Not for you.”

You smile, polite, disarming, the smile he always falls for. “I’ll be fine,” you say. “You worry too much.”

He studies you for a moment, the kind of look that sees everything, but somehow, he doesn’t see this. Not really. Not the way your hand brushes over the small device hidden in your pocket, the one feeding information back to your allies. The one that could destroy him if you ever chose to use it.

“I can’t lose you,” Klaus mutters, stepping closer, the heat from his presence making it impossible to think clearly. “Not to them. Not to anyone.”

You reach out, letting your hand brush against his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heart. It’s almost unbearable. Almost. Because every beat, every moment you spend with him, reminds you why this is wrong—and yet, how right it feels.

Days blur together. You move through the mansion like a shadow, listening, observing, learning his habits, the secrets of his enemies. Klaus shows you nothing—not because he doesn’t trust you, but because trust is complicated for someone who’s lived for centuries. And yet, he leaves pieces of himself everywhere: small confessions, fleeting glances, rare laughter in the night that makes your chest ache with guilt.

One night, he finds you in the study, pretending to read a book. “You lie beautifully,” he says, his voice cutting through the quiet. “But I can feel it. Something you’re not telling me.”

You swallow, forcing calm. “I’m here because I want to be.”

He steps closer, eyes dark, dangerous, but soft with something you weren’t prepared for. “Do you? Or are you here because it’s convenient?”